


Life Goes On

by HixyStix



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:33:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25690630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HixyStix/pseuds/HixyStix
Summary: A lazy day on Lira San is special nonetheless.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 25
Kudos: 111





	Life Goes On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mudkipwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mudkipwrites/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sunlight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25269628) by [shippingandrecieving](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shippingandrecieving/pseuds/shippingandrecieving). 



Dawn came early on Lira San, but it was soft enough to be ignored if desired. Morning emerged slowly through the trees that dotted most of the lands.

Years of living on constantly-lit ships, both Imperial and Rebel, made sunrise a novel thing to Alexsandr Kallus, however. Cold ships’ light was nothing compared to the warmth of light from a star. Most mornings, still delighted at the sight, he snuck out of bed to watch the day begin from the front porch of the small bungalow he shared with his husband.

That morning was no different, finding Alexsandr watching the light puddle on the ground as if it had physical weight. It slunk and crept through the thick-trunked ch’hala trees to find itself lapping at Alexsandr’s toes.

He took a deep breath in the crisp dawn, enjoying the feel of non-recycled air in his lungs. They’d been on Lira San for a few years, but he had sworn never to take any of it for granted.

So far, he hadn’t. 

Instead, he enjoyed the smell of the trees and the nearby lake, the sounds of birds and their neighbor’s gill-goats waking up for the day. 

It was a peaceful scene, destined to only last a little that day with the weather rolling in, but all that was a few hours away.

Right now, it was just Alexsandr and the rising sun.

Inside the bungalow, Garazeb Orrelios was not as enamored of sunrises, nor of rising early now that they were civilians. Staying in bed, he dozed until Alexsandr returned.

It had taken a long time for the strict, orderly man to shake the habits of years of war, but Alexsandr had learned to come back to bed and hold off on facing the day. Zeb waited, one arm flopped out to Alexsandr’s side of the bed.

The bed shook while he dozed and Zeb felt a nudge at his hand. “G’morning, Tiki,” he mumbled, scritching the tooka’s chin. She purred and climbed atop him, kneading her claws into his fur. 

Zeb grumbled a bit, but put up with it; the motions were more ticklish than painful. He pet her, running his fingers down her large head and back, avoiding her tail because he knew that would earn him a swipe with claws.

The floorboards in the hall creaked. Zeb smiled, ready to welcome his love back into his arms – as best he could with the tooka in the bed, too.

“Kal,” Zeb said softly as Alexsandr entered the bedroom, toeing off his sandals and climbing into the bed. He rested his head on Zeb’s outstretched arm, reaching up to pet Tiki.

Zeb maneuvered around the tooka and ran a hand down Alexsandr’s arm. “Yer cold,” he mumbled, pulling the blanket up to cover his husband.

“It’s that time of year,” Alexsandr said with a smile.

“Means it’s time to hibernate,” Zeb replied. “Spend the cold months in bed, with me.”

Alexsandr chuckled. “If lasats actually hibernated, I’d do just that. But life goes on, my love.”

Nudging the tooka off his side, Zeb waited for her to resituate herself between his feet before he put a hand to Alexsandr’s cheek and kissed him.

While they kissed, Alexsandr ran fingers down Zeb’s chest and side, tracing the scars that told the story of Zeb’s life, from the slick skin of a blaster wound to a back alley vibroblade cut. Zeb’s fur covered and hid most of his scars, but Alexsandr knew just where to find them all anyway.

Zeb sighed when Alexsandr lingered on the tiny raised lines radiating out from the strike of Alexsandr’s own bo-rifle, taking Alexsandr’s hands into his own. “Don’t dwell on that,” he instructed gently.

Alexsandr didn’t argue, reaching up instead to massage one of Zeb’s ears from tip to base. Zeb closed his eyes, practically purring at the sensations. With a quick tug at Alexsandr’s waist, Zeb pulled him in closer. “You’re wearing too many clothes, Kal,” Zeb said, touching foreheads with his husband.

“I thought the neighbors might take offense if I didn’t put any on,” Alexsandr replied, eyes twinkling.

“ _I_ take offense.” Zeb growled and started working Alexsandr’s shirt off.

Alexsandr sat up and finished the job, also wriggling out of his trousers. “Can’t let you be offended, can I?”

“Best not. Pissed-off lasats ain’t pretty.”

Alexsandr laid back down, back to Zeb. “And you are so very pretty, aren’t you, Garazeb?”

“Kriffing straight.” Zeb moved Alexsandr’s hair aside so he could kiss the base of his husband’s neck.

Alexsandr shivered. “Garazeb?” he asked softly.

“Hm?” Zeb knew what was coming but asked anyway. “What is it, _ni sasha_?”

“ _Azaln Menazyl_.” Alexsandr said, his Coruscanti accent still noticeable even after all the years he’d been speaking Lasana.

Zeb adored it. “ _Azaln Menazyl_ ,” he repeated. Five years exactly since they got married, right after Endor.

 _After._ More like as soon as they could find Hera to officiate after the battle. They’d had a proper lasat-style wedding later, on Lira San, but that night it had seemed important to take care of things as quickly as possible.

Alexsandr snuggled down into his pillow, lying atop Zeb’s arm. Zeb curled up behind Alexsandr, wrapping his free arm and a leg around the human. Together, they drifted off to sleep once more, Tiki settled between their entangled feet.

It was nearly midmorning when Alexsandr next rose. Leaving Zeb asleep, he pulled on his pants, fed Tiki, and started slicing fresh fruits for their breakfast. A few minutes later, the sound of heavy footsteps behind him made him smile.

“Good morning, love,” Alexsandr said without looking back.

Zeb pressed up against his back, peering over his shoulder. He reached out and speared a slice of fruit on his claws, stealing it before Alexsandr could stop him.

Alexsandr was ready the next time and swatted Zeb on the knuckles with the flat of his knife. “Wait,” he said, trying to hide his amusement. “We’ll eat together.”

“Will we?” Zeb asked, voice low and rumbling in Alexsandr’s ear. “What if I want you for breakfast instead?”

Laughter burst out of Alexsandr at Zeb’s crude come-on. “Excuse you,” he said, “but you’re going to have to try harder than that. Romance me today.”

Zeb planted a small kiss on Alexsandr’s shoulder, right on the raised scar Zeb left to mark Alexsandr as his own. A trail of such kisses followed, up Alexsandr’s neck and behind his ear.

“That’s closer,” Alexsandr said, eyes closed and smiling. Setting down his knife, he turned until he was facing Zeb. His husband moved closer, until they were pressed together, and tangled his fingers in Alexsandr’s hair, not yet tamed into a ponytail for the day. Cupping Alexsandr’s jaw with the other hand, Zeb paused, staring into Alexsandr’s eyes.

Alexsandr stared back, lost in those big green eyes he loved so very much.

“Zeb,” he said quietly, “I am _making breakfast_. You are just going to have to wait.” Alexsandr laughed gently and pushed Zeb back a step or two.

Zeb grinned rakishly. “Is that a challenge?”

Alexsandr turned back to the counter. “No, it’s a rain check.” He plated some of the fruit, adding a cup of yogurt from the neighbor’s gill-goats. “Here, love.”

Grin never faltering, Zeb took his plate and sat it on their small table before starting up the caf machine. When he had two cups, he fixed one for himself and the other for Alexsandr. By that time, Alexsandr was seated at the table with his own breakfast.

Handing Alexsandr his mug, Zeb sat down and motioned toward the big front window with his chin. “Getting dark again out there.”

“It’s supposed to storm today. Good thing we didn’t have much planned.” Almost on cue, the first fat raindrops fell, hitting the roof loud enough to be heard inside.

“Except for tonight.”

Alexsandr smiled indulgently. “Except for tonight.” Sipping his caf, milky and sweet, he watched as the clouds rolled in, the rain falling harder and harder every minute.

Even in a storm, Lira San was beautiful. The red-tipped grasses blew in the wind and long blue-green leaves fell from the ch’hala trees, with their pressure-sensitive bark that changed colors with every raindrop. Because it was autumn, orange and golden leaves fell, too. Alexsandr thought of the lake in the storm, clear green water churning in the wind and rain, the little blue boat he and Zeb used rocking with the waves.

It made for colorful scenery, the kind he’d never gotten to see growing up on Coruscant, nor had he ever been given the chance to enjoy while in the ISB or the Rebellion. Much of that was his own fault – he was a natural workaholic – but he’d rarely been in beautiful places to start with.

Alexsandr still couldn’t believe he got to live in such a place with a man such as Zeb.

“Kal.”

Zeb’s voice caught Alexsandr’s attention and he looked back at his husband, noticing that Zeb’s plate was now empty. “Sorry?”

“You zoned out for a few minutes there,” Zeb said, the edges of his mouth twitching upward; proof he was more amused than anything. “See anything interesting out there?”

“Just the usual,” Alexsandr said, as if he’d ever be able to experience life on Lira San in such a blasé fashion.

“If it clears up before dinner, we can take a walk,” Zeb suggested.

Grateful that Zeb knew what he’d been thinking, Alexsandr nodded and took another sip of caf. “That would be nice.”

Zeb stood and took his plate back to the kitchen. Alexsandr heard the small steam washer running and Zeb rejoined him, stopping to kiss the top of his head. “Anything new today?”

“Not for me,” Alexsandr answered. “You?”

“I _was_ going to market, but it looks like I’ll have to wait.”

“We won’t starve if you wait until tomorrow.”

“Speak for yourself,” Zeb laughed. “Think I’ll take the day to catch up on the little things.”

Alexsandr grinned. “So you’ll be reading and napping?”

Zeb returned the grin, merriment in his bright green eyes. “You know me well.”

Zeb was as good as his word; he spent all morning reading a holonovel he’d been meaning to finish, stretched out on the couch with Tiki, trying not to fall asleep. The rain on the roof sabotaged his efforts and he soon dozed off, eyes closing halfway through a sentence.

Jerking back awake, he decided to go bother Alexsandr and see if he could talk him into joining in a proper nap before lunch.

“Hey,” he said, poking his head into their office: a small room just big enough to fit in a couple of desks and HoloNet consoles. “You busy?”

Alexsandr looked up from his datapad and took off the small pair of glasses he wore while he worked. Zeb thought they were quite attractive on him – even if humans were designed to break so easily – but Alexsandr was embarrassed to need them.

“I’m in the middle of a mission,” he said, “but I could stop.”

“Stop. I’ve got something more important to do.” Zeb held out his hand.

Setting down the datapad and glasses, Alexsandr took Zeb’s hand. Zeb led him back to the couch, where he maneuvered things so that Alexsandr lay atop him, head on Zeb’s chest.

Alexsandr looked up at him, smiling. “So your something more important is a nap?”

Zeb brushed back some loose strands of Alexsandr’s hair. “You get lost in that book, Kal. It’s not healthy.”

“You told me to write it,” Alexsandr reminded him.

Zeb _had_ told him to, as a joking suggestion back during the war, but somehow a few members of the New Republic Senate – former Rebels – had heard of the idea and also encouraged-slash-suggested-slash-demanded Alexsandr write it. It was a blatant ploy for New Republic propaganda, but Alexsandr had little choice in the matter.

So he wrote: a book detailing his exploits as both Imperial and Rebel, meant to show the truth of the Empire to the galaxy.

Unfortunately, Zeb noticed that while the actual writing was easy for Alexsandr, reliving his worst actions and missions took their toll. Alexsandr often left writing sessions in sour moods, all too willing to beat up on himself again.

Zeb, of course, did what he could to mitigate things, but there was only so much he could do.

Some of the writing had been cathartic, much of it shameful, and none of it anything Alexsandr had wanted to remember.

“Where are you?” Zeb asked, hoping to draw out what Alexsandr was certainly holding in.

“Teralov.”

“So what you were doing on Lothal, right?” Zeb rubbed Alexsandr’s back reassuringly. “That’s not so bad, is it?”

Alexsandr squeezed his eyes shut. “I was a lot more effective than I was on Lothal. And–”

“And what?”

“Lasan is next. Are you _sure_ I should be writing about this?”

The hurt on Alexsandr’s face almost broke Zeb’s heart. He slid both arms around his husband and held him close, thinking. Lasan had been nightmarish and tragic for the lasats and their side of the story ought to be told someday, but… 

“It needs to be told,” Zeb said after a moment, “by someone who gets what a horror it was.”

“By someone that was on the side of the Imperials?” Alexsandr countered. “Shouldn’t this story be told by you or Gron or Chava or any of the other survivors?”

Zeb hummed. “Probably. But you’re the one who’s been _asked_ to write it. And I trust you to write it well.”

Alexsandr buried his head in Zeb’s chest. “You put too much trust in me. You always have.”

“Hey,” Zeb said, gently lifting Alexsandr’s head again. “I trust you because you’ve earned it, Kal. You’ve never betrayed me, not after you started asking questions, and definitely not now.”

Blinking at him slowly, as they might do to the ever-affectionate Tiki, Alexsandr nodded. “I still don’t think I should be writing this. But since I am, I want you to help me, to make sure I’m getting it right.”

“Okay,” Zeb agreed. “If that will help you feel better, then I’ll help you.” Both of them knew without needing to say it out loud that Zeb would always help Alexsandr, just as surely as Alexsandr would help Zeb.

Alexsandr buried his face once more and Zeb let him that time, running his hands up and down Alexsandr’s sides, trying to get him to relax enough to nap.

On the tail end of crackling thunder, someone knocked at their door.

Both men perked up and looked at each other. Who would be out there in such weather?

Alexsandr rolled off Zeb, who cautiously answered the door.

“Good, you’re home,” said their young neighbor, Tashvyr, bouncing anxiously. “The goats are out again.”

Zeb looked back at Alexsandr and rolled his eyes. Tashvyr’s gill-goats were masters of escape and she always came to Zeb for help wrangling them back in their pasture.

Alexsandr shrugged and went to the closet, pulling out both of their rain cloaks. “How long have they been out?” he asked.

“Just about ten minutes.” Tashvyr fidgeted with the lead-ropes dangling from her shoulder.

Zeb groaned internally. That was plenty of time for the gill-goats to spread across the neighborhood, wreaking havoc. “All right. You and Kal head into the neighborhood and I’ll go check the lake.”

Tashvyr nodded gratefully, stepping off the porch to wait for Alexsandr.

As Zeb pulled on his cloak, Alexsandr walked by and pinched his rear. Zeb growled a little, but couldn’t help smiling.

Ignoring the torrential rain, Tashvyr and Alexsandr worked their way through their spread-out neighborhood, checking wooded areas between houses and large empty lots for Tashvyr’s missing gill-goats.

“How’d they get out this time?” Alexsandr asked.

Tashvyr looked over at him sheepishly. “I was hurrying to feel them and didn’t latch the gate all the way.”

Alexsandr nodded, holding back a frown. Tashvyr frequently made that exact mistake. “You know, if you want Zeb or I to come over and work on that latch for you…”

She shook her head. “Not necessary.” They rounded a bend in the road and she pointed to a neighbor’s yard. “There!”

There, indeed, were two gill-goats, half of Tashvyr’s small herd, munching on a flowering bush by someone’s front porch.

“Karabast,” muttered Tashvyr. “We better hurry.” She slung the rope off her shoulder, ready to attach it to the gill-goats’ halters.

Alexsandr pulled out his comlink and pressed the button that connected him to Zeb. “We’ve found two,” he said. “Have you had any luck?”

Zeb’s voice came back muffled. “Bit busy right now!” His statement was followed by a loud gill-goat bleat.

Alexsandr grinned, picturing Zeb wrestling with a gill-goat, trying to tie his rope on. The gill-goats were calm and well-behaved for Tashvyr, but lashed out at anyone else, meaning Zeb and Alexsandr needed to be more careful. 

He pocketed the comlink again and approached the gill-goats, taking a wide route as opposed to Tashvyr’s more direct one. Coming up from behind, he quickly snagged the gill-goat’s halter, holding on as tightly as he could as the gill-goat thrashed and attempted to flee.

At least now the gill-goat wasn’t eating the carefully cultivated bush.

Tashvyr came over, murmuring to the beast, calming it down. It quit trying to break free from Alexsandr’s grip and let Tashvyr tie one end of the rope to it.

Alexsandr walked behind Tashvyr and the gill-goats, making sure they didn’t slip their leads, all the way back to Tashvyr’s small pasture. 

When they arrived, Zeb was wrangling two gill-goats of his own, trying to get them in the gate.

“You found them!” called Tashvyr gratefully.

Zeb grimaced as he looked up. “Got ‘em,” he said, slamming the gate shut. “You really need a better latch. You know, I could–”

“I know,” Tashvyr sighed. “Someday.” She guided her two gill-goats in, untying the lead-lines.

Zeb walked over to Alexsandr and stood next to him, watching.

Tashvyr snuck out of the pasture – securely latching the gate this time – and joined the two men. “I owe you for your help. Can I cook you dinner or something?”

Alexsandr shared a look with Zeb before shaking his head. “Thank you, but we’ve already got dinner plans tonight.”

“Anniversary,” Zeb explained, wrapping an arm around Kallus in his rain cloak.

“Oh!” Tashvyr’s eyes went wide. “I’m sorry I interrupted your day.”

“It’s okay,” Alexsandr said. “We’re glad to help.”

“But we _are_ headed back home now. Watch out for those goats,” Zeb warned.

They left Tashvyr by the pasture and trekked through the small woods back to their house.

On the porch, Alex took off his cloak and shook the majority of the raindrops off it. He looked over at Zeb. “Oh, no…” he said, taking a step back.

Zeb grinned, but didn’t let Alexsandr’s apprehension stop him. Planting his feet, he shook his entire body, spraying water droplets across the porch.

When he stopped, his fur was fluffed and Alexsandr was hiding behind his wet-again cloak.

“You know I hate when you do that,” Alexsandr said with a frown.

“And you don’t know how good it feels,” Zeb countered. “Besides, I didn’t get you wet this time, did I?”

“Only because I was prepared!” Alexsandr’s irritation began to bleed into amusement. He shouldn’t encourage Zeb, he knew, but it was hard not to react when his fur was all poofed out and soft. He sighed, letting a smile cross his face, and shook out his cloak again.

Zeb reached out and took his dry-ish cloak, opening the front door with a toe. He hung both their cloaks by the door and held a hand out to Alexsandr. “Want to try that nap again? Or lunch?”

Alexsandr came in close for a brief kiss. “I’d love to, but I need to get back to writing. I’ll just eat while I’m doing that.”

Zeb pouted, but Alexsandr held firm.

“Later,” he promised. “Let me get through this mission and I’ll join you for a nap.”

“You’d better,” Zeb said, combing wet hair from Alexsandr’s face. “You already gave me one rain check today, Kal.”

“I _promise_ ,” Alexsandr said. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

Zeb smiled again. “Ah. That I think I can do.”

To Zeb’s delight, Alexsandr kept his word. A couple hours before they needed to get ready for dinner, Alexsandr emerged from their office and led Zeb to the bedroom, where he fulfilled his promise from breakfast before curling up with Zeb for a nap.

Zeb lay there, the sleeping Alexsandr in his arms, sated and content. Some days it seemed like they were in a dream, waiting to wake up back in the war; others, the war seemed a lifetime ago.

Today was one of the former. It’d been five short years of marriage, and four of those in peace, but peace such as they had often felt unreal. Any minute, they’d find themselves back on Hoth or Gall or any number of places they’d hidden from the Empire. Any minute, they’d be hunted again. Any minute, they’d lose all they’d built on Lira San.

“You’re thinking loudly,” mumbled Alexsandr, not as asleep as Zeb had thought. “If you won’t let me do that, neither can you. Stop it.”

Zeb smiled gently and kissed Alexsandr’s head. “Yes, _ni Tinsana._ ”

Alexsandr hummed happily and tightened his grip around Zeb’s body. “I promised you a nap but that only works if you sleep, love.”

Zeb rubbed his back. “Yes, dear.” 

Closing his eyes, he let himself drift off, secure in the knowledge that no matter what he woke up to, Alexsandr would still be there waiting for him.

Lira San was a fairly casual place overall. Except for ceremonies, there wasn’t much call to dress up. 

So, while getting ready for their night out, Zeb hadn’t thought too hard about what to wear. He put on a dark green tunic with the matching pants, wrapping a golden sash around his waist as a belt. The sash matched the edging on the tunic, tying the outfit together.

He thought he looked quite nice, at least until Alexsandr walked out of the refresher. He’d pulled from his stash of remaining human-fitted clothes, not the lasat ones they’d had adjusted. His dark gray pants were tight – almost too tight, but Zeb was not going to complain – and matched with a white shirt and a vest almost as dark a purple as Zeb’s stripes. His hair was the only casual thing about him, pulled back into a ponytail with a black ribbon.

“Oh.” Zeb stopped what he was doing and stared at his husband. Maybe they’d gone to bed together too early that day. Maybe Alexsandr would be up for a round two after dinner.

Alexsandr smirked, as if he knew exactly what sort of image he projected – and he probably did. “You look nice,” he said.

“You look–” _Delicious. Ravishing. Amazing._ “–good, too.”

“Thank you.” Alexsandr straightened the vest in the mirror, catching Zeb’s eyes in the reflection. “Should we be heading out?”

“Hm?” Zeb had been only half paying attention. “Oh, yeah. Dinner plans.”

“Yes, those.” Alexsandr smiled. “I think I should drive; you seem a little distracted.”

Zeb walked around the bed and grabbed Alexsandr by the waist. “And whose fault is that?”

If it weren’t for the wicked twinkle in his eyes, Alexsandr would’ve looked innocent. “I have no clue what you mean.”

With a short, lusty growl, Zeb rubbed his cheeks against Alexsandr’s, scenting him thoroughly before their night out.

Dinner had been delicious but slow and pretentious; they’d booked seating at the nicest restaurant in the capital city, as they did every year. And, as every year, Zeb complained about it being too stuffy while Alexsandr reminded him whose idea it had been to book there again.

Not that it was all bad; the food was _wonderful_ and the real reason they kept coming back. 

Alexsandr’s steak was cooked perfectly, buttery and herbed, and he shared some of it with Zeb, letting his husband nibble it off the end of his fork.

The Lira San wine they drank had been made strong, as befit lasat palates, so Alexsandr tried to pace himself, even though he loved the dry berry wine. No sense getting tipsy just yet. 

Two hours after they first sat down to eat, however, Alexsandr was more than tipsy. They’d left the restaurant in favor of a nice bar, one they frequented at least once a week. The inside was clean, comfortable, and dimly lit without seeming seedy. 

In addition to the wine at dinner, Alexsandr had had his usual half a liter of drink that was considered light for lasats. It wasn’t light for humans, however, and now Alexsandr would need some assistance leaving the premises.

Across the booth, Zeb was staring at him, a soft smile on his face. “Kal,” he said.

Alexsandr brushed hair out of his face; his ponytail was coming loose and perhaps that was what Zeb was going to comment on. “Yes, Zeb?”

“Let’s dance.”

The words sent a shock through Alexsandr. Zeb had only asked to dance once before, before they were married, and Alexsandr had embarrassingly explained that he didn’t know how to. 

Oh, he knew how to identify hundreds of different dance steps and the meanings behind them, thanks to the ISB, but to actually dance himself? That hadn’t been encouraged and Alexsandr had never pursued it, planning to be married to his job, not an amorous lasat.

“Zeb, you know I don’t–”

Zeb scoffed. “Anyone can do it. You’ve waited long enough to learn.”

Sensing he was not going to win the fight, Alexsandr sighed and let Zeb lead him onto the bar’s little dance floor.

They weren’t the only couple, but they were the only human-lasat couple. Alexsandr felt curious eyes boring into the back of his head.

“Someday I’m teaching you spig dancing,” Zeb said, “but we’ll start easy today. Alderaanian waltz.”

 _Waltz. One-two-three, one-two-three,_ Alexsandr thought a little frantically, through the alcoholic haze in his brain. _I can do this. I can count to three._

“It’s simple,” Zeb said, moving his arms into the proper position. Alexsandr mirrored his positioning, being sure to keep his elbows up. He might not know much about dancing himself, but he remembered that much from his classes on identifying dances and hidden signals.

There were no hidden signals in this dance; Zeb made it quite clear he wanted Alexsandr, pulling him close so their bodies were touching, whispering instructions directly into Alexsandr’s ear, the heat in Zeb’s eyes burning almost too much every time Alexsandr looked at him.

It was enough that Alexsandr stumbled in his counting, his feet ending up under Zeb’s toes as they made a small circle on the dance floor.

Zeb just smiled warmly at Alexsandr, taking a step back and resetting their pose. He hummed along with the music, tapping out the beats in the middle of Alexsandr’s back.

Alexsandr kept up that time, just the simple waltz, one of the few things left from Alderaan in the universe. He leaned his head against Zeb’s shoulder and closed his eyes, letting Zeb lead while he took in the smell of Zeb’s fur, the sound of Zeb’s breathing, the warmth of Zeb’s body: all the little signs that Zeb was alive and well and the love of Alexsandr’s life.

A giggling Alexsandr in his arms, Zeb managed to unlock their front door and shut it behind them.

“Yer a mess, Alexsandr Kallus,” he said, grinning, a bit buzzed himself.

Alexsandr let his head flop back, hair dangling loose beneath him. “You love me for it,” he slurred.

“I do,” Zeb said. “I love you when yer a mess, when yer a tangle of anxiety, when yer all put together and proper. I love yer Rebel heart, _ni alitha_ , but I don’t love how much you weigh. ‘M putting you down now.”

Alexsandr’s legs fumbled underneath him when Zeb set him down, but he recovered quickly. “Carried me over the threshold,” he said, patting Zeb on the chest. “Married properly now.”

“Jus’ like last year,” Zeb reminded him. “And the year before. And the year before _that_ , you tried to carry me.”

“Oh, yeah.” Alexsandr closed his eyes, wavering a little, and Zeb recognized an effort to sober up. When he opened them again, Zeb saw a little more of his husband in the golden brown irises. “Zeb.”

“Kal,” Zeb replied gently.

“I want to go to bed.”

Zeb’s smile grew. “We can do that.”

A hand on Alexsandr’s back, Zeb guided him to their bedroom. Tiki was already stretched out asleep on the bed, but Alexsandr picked her up and plopped her on the ground. She fussed, but didn’t go much further than the hall just outside the room, preferring to groom and wait for her chance to claim the bed again.

Ignoring the tooka, Zeb pulled Alexsandr in close, kissing him and unbuttoning his vest and shirt.

Alexsandr obligingly shrugged both off, letting them fall to the floor. He returned the favor by undoing Zeb’s sash and tugging off his shirt.

Back and forth it went, one article of clothing at a time, until both men stood there naked and ready.

Alexsandr, however, was beginning to sway again, so Zeb picked him up one more time and set him on the bed, crawling over the top of him.

Stretching his arms above his head, Alexsandr snuggled back into the soft pillows and–

–and fell asleep almost immediately, a soft smile on his face.

Zeb groaned a little in frustration, but didn’t try to wake Alexsandr back up. Instead, he took care to tuck Alexsandr in before crawling into the bed himself.

Running a hand softly down Alexsandr’s side, Zeb watched him sleep. Alexsandr reacted to the touch by rolling over and flopping on top of Zeb, an arm and a leg outstretched across Zeb’s body.

Zeb resituated them both into a more comfortable position and lay there, face resting against Alexsandr’s hair, breathing in the musky fragrance of his husband. He still carried their mingled scents on his cheeks and likely would through morning.

Between the marking on Alexsandr’s shoulder and the scenting, Zeb had claimed Alexsandr in almost every way a lasat could.

It was all overkill, Zeb knew. He had Alexsandr’s heart and that was the most important thing. They loved each other and neither was going anywhere without the other, not anymore.

Smiling into Alexsandr’s hair, Zeb whispered, “ _Azaln Menazyl,_ Alexsandr.”

Alexsandr sighed and nestled deeper into Zeb’s chest.

Zeb sighed, too, completely and utterly at ease.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks to the amazing WhiplashCrash for the beta!
> 
> Come find me on tumblr and flail over Rebels and Kalluzeb! [hixystix](https://hixystix.tumblr.com/) is my main blog, and [x-wing-junkie](https://x-wing-junkie.tumblr.com/) is my _Star Wars_ blog. New friends always welcome!


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